Sue is both an accomplished writer and an artist's model, her publications include The Social Decline of the Oystercatcher and her latest novel Special Needs. Presently she is working on an illustrated book about her life and times as a life model in which some of this work may well be reproduced.

June 17, 2011

I have long wished to draw a model with an animated expression, rather than the standard boredom, and last evening at Redbrick, we were treated to an unsettling, silent solo haka by Richard; fighting stance, thrusting chin and bulging, piercing eyes; only the tattoos were absent. Fortunately, I had been warned by Tom and Tony, and had positioned myself out of the direct line of the withering glare, although these wide-angle lenses still caused considerable difficulty in establishing the facial proportions.

Sue, almost within the zone of maximum damage, worried, at the finish that she must have got the eyes wrong, whilst Steven and Sandra, who played on the wings, were taken aback when they viewed the other work, without Richard in position for corroboration. Their profiles tell a different story.

The assembled group fell immediately into its customary, hushed concentration at the start, and there was a Saturday Session feel to the long summer evening, with the Solstice so close. The first hour flew, working hard to establish the composition, proportions and tonal massing of my portrait before the crucial break, at which point one becomes aware of the other work and the thoughts of fellow travellers. That opening hour, alone with your materials and a model is, for me, the tightrope walk where cold sweat and limp relief tug and drive you on to tea and biscuits on the firm ground of the always- empty stage. The second session allows manipulation, refinement, damage limitation or overwork, but the drawing or painting was made in the first hour.

And it proved fortunate that this is the case, as, over the next half hour, the light dwindled and seeped away through the floorboards to the silent cemetery of unloved furniture below. Richard’s eyes remained fixed on distant prey, but a faint wash of acid green highlighted his features as his entire being summoned the storm. It was now dark enough to render colour selection pointless, and the pathetic spotlight, arranged to define his form, swung stiffly toward his massive brain as he bent every volt to his will. I heard Tom croak those dread words, “ the deluge” before any further communication was drowned by the gathering rattle, then hammering of ten thousand tiny fists on the fragile north light of the darkened mill…………

Tune in next week for the concluding episode.

Russell (Artist)

The View from the Other Side by Richard

Modelling for Redbrick is a tough gig. To put it in perspective, a two-and-a-half-hour single pose is the equivalent of staying stock still all the way from Leeds to London on an East Coast train journey, with only a 15-minute walk to the buffet car somewhere near Grantham to offer relief. Also, 'languid' and 'sensuous' don't often work for male models; we're usually (and quite rightly) expected to be a bit more dynamic, as the artistic appeal of 'middle-aged bloke sitting in chair' is limited. So having broken me in gently last year with a swivelling sitting pose and a fairly simple stander I could see a gleam in Tony's eye tonight as he toyed with the idea of suspending me from a beam by one ankle.

Eventually he suggested, more modestly, would I like to stand for two hours with my hands behind my head? Not really, was the honest answer, but the client gets what the client wants. I countered with a suggestion of a stepping pose. He liked that, and could I add a left arm stretch to stop the figure being too 'up and down'? Deal done.People often ask what the model thinks about during a long pose. It varies - but often, as tonight, I'm counting in my head. Last week I was impersonating Giacometti sculptures for a group in Bradford; five minute highly dynamic poses with a lot of arm-stretchy pointing and falling over. Five minutes requires a count to 300, and just about any amount of discomfort can be endured for a count to 300. Tonight I was counting to 300 twelve times in the first half. I lost count part way through (pigeons can be very distracting) so by the time the DNA in my left heel was seeking to bond with that of the podium in ways never envisaged by nature I asked how we were doing for time. That was the first hour, and Tony called a break. I must have been doing OK as he brought me a chocolate biscuit to go with the very welcome coffee.

Part two of a Redbrick session is always harder than part one. The aches have set in, but surprisingly it wasn't pain in the -er- buttock that I'd expected from the step pose.. The worst bit was holding a hot and sweaty ball of bubble wrap in my left hand. If I've lost the high score on Tom's still-ometer it's because that's a really, really unpleasant sensation. I'll put a cloth over it next time. Quick comfort break after half an hour to restore blood flow - and we're into the home straight. I'm starting to anticipate a hot bath at home, but before that comes the thrill of seeing the work the group has created. It's no exaggeration to say I'm always blown away by the quality of the images, and it's not for the hired help to have a favourite.That said I do like Sandra's portrait. I'm told the paint was applied with a credit card. I love the three-dimensional qualities in Peter and Steven's full-length interpretations, which capture the mood I was trying to convey in the pose. The vivid colour in Sue and Roger S's work is striking, as are the radically different approaches to portraits from Roger H, Russell, Tony and Tom. All the work is amazing. After the rigours of the day job it's always a pleasure to work as a model with creative people. Ideally, I'd like to do about one session a month and there's space in the diary at the moment. If anyone know any other group that could use someone willing to stand, sit or lie still in the name of art (and which doesn't use bubble wrap) please let me know. Otherwise I'll get naked for you again in October.

June 10, 2011

The Lure of the Humble Pencil

Isn't a pencil a wonderful thing. So often I forget just how wonderful it is as I wander off in search of novelty and cheap thrills ignoring my little sticks of lead snugly encased in soft wood. That first moment when crumbly graphite slides across taut virgin paper is almost indescribable, it's just so seductive and lovely as the graphite grips the paper holding each line securely. 2B or not 2B does it really matter, I was always told it had to be 2B and only a miserly draughtsman labouring away at cogs and valves would succumb to the ghostly H. To venture down the H route was a journey into the unknown depths of extreme hardness where drawings in their silvery elusiveness where mere chimera's, shadowy inscriptions, silver-points with no point. No if you were an artist worth your mettle the 2B was the weapon of choice, it smudged and flowed with a liquid ease from dense black to ghostly grey it was a pencil of such extreme versatility, surely nothing more was required. And then one day there emerged the 'Black Prince', a thick black barrel of a pencil, with a lead so soft it poured onto the paper, liquid heaven, drawings were bigger, darker, smudgier, denser, a new world was born and now the demand was for more. Students clamoured for pure graphite nothing less would do as large sheets of Fabriano were stapled onto billowing shanty towns of chipboard, across the country, the new Jerusalem had arrived. Graphite sticks emblazoned with the almost unimaginable code of 9B were passed from student to student, a black so black no other black could describe it, beyond ground ivory, a soot-less black, the enamel black of a speechless void, each student now had the hands of a coal blackened miner, faces smudged with soft graphite, vast, unwieldy drawings poured from colleges across the land as the graphite stick became all conquering. Why paint when drawing was so real, so visceral, so animistic, primal drawing was definitely where it was at no question. But what of the humble pencil, the little mini stick of graphite swaddled in it's wooden blanket, well it became passe and for awhile we forgot all about it but now it's back quietly doing what it's always done, reliable, not showy, a workhorse that asks no more than to be useful, the faithful retainer has returned.

I'd forgotten how lovely a simple pencil drawing can be, like egg on toast it hits the spot. Tony, Barry and Steven well done for keeping the faith and showing us all how less is so often more. I'm off to the studio now to dust off my faithful old pencils give them a gentle sharpening and maybe take one or two out for a spin - see you next Thursday.

June 05, 2011

Some models are inspirational in the literal sense of the word and Roger is one of them, a model that inspires excellence. I don't want that to appear smug and self-congratulatory but he makes you want to do your best. It's as though he has presented you with first class materials and now you have the best chance ever to assemble them into the best thing you've ever done, that's the kind of atmosphere he generates. Although numbers were down, it felt good, with plenty of space and lots of concentration.This time I managed to finish early and had some time to live out my fantasy of frontline hero-journalist. Here are a few observations from my notes written whilst the session was still in progress.

Bren - artwork is a physical manifestation of ageing and decay, realised through a punishing process of creation and destruction which paradoxically results in an ethereal image like a ghost imprinted on leather. Big question is the process the necessary result of dissatisfaction or the necessary procedure to achieve visual effect? Removal of tape was a good decision as it created structural interventions in the miasma - exciting work, exciting process, will we end up with a white piece one day suggesting the barest trace of a presence ?

Russell - same process as Bren but the figure is deftly massaged into life, coaxed into existence. Battle between natural graphic ordered self and desire for greater creativity and freedom therefore the work has the tension of two spirits battling for domination - that left arm is a long 'un! Great green head - might be the first and last time I ever get to say that!

Tony - nibbled and built like a cathedral of matchsticks all angular and precise, Catweazle stare and pork sausage fingers, lovely.

Dick - built and flayed, an ecorche in reverse, an emphatic work just avoiding the literal at the eleventh hour - it's a face from the past, a victim re-creation, do you recognize this man, he was murdered over fifty years ago and we think he looked like this says Nick of Crimewatch. A truly masterful rendition of the common shiny pate, rarely have I seen it done quite so well.

Fiona - your best work yet, not a portrait but a re-created bog man (lots of re-creation going on!), strangely anatomical and eerie. Clay stretched and cracked like old skin, delicate textures, fabulous nose, do more have a series. Imagine each fired with a delicate thin white glaze on it's own white plinth in a white gallery - a really stunning series of monumental presences, think Claire Cuneen - do it Fiona, don't hesitate!

Ivan - attenuation is Ivan's thing, taut, spare, sinuous and fragile, Roger as long legged spider, this is just the beginning, do more and they will develop the authority the line drawings possess, allow the exaggerations, enjoy them, think Aubrey Beardsley, the forgotten man.

Steven - A work of subtle exactitude, pendulum perfection, balanced and harmonious as a well calibrated mechanism, Victorian precision, ordered, beautiful, delicate created by a craftsman/artist of the highest order.

Sandra - a very fine drawing, Sandra at the peak of her considerable powers. Scribbled, scraped, splashed, smudged, pastel and acrylic, out of which emerges the head of a proud old man, defiant, staring into the past, a figure visceral and real made from coloured dust (purple prose but what the heck!), a tremendous drawing of real authority.

Tom - I'm trying to make work where big marks make small details so it looks as if it just happened. Whenever possible I want to keep the integrity of the process so it both looks like the stuff it was made of (ink, gouache and pastel) and it's also a fair representation of the figure without becoming too obsessive about likeness. Anyway you make your mind up and please comment about all the work, a little encouragement (or criticism) goes a long way. Thank you.

Life Drawing at Redbrick Mill tomorrow with model Roger starts at 9.30am.

Arabian Nights at the Batley Bazaar by Russell Lumb

A sultry evening at Redbrick, compounded by anti-sun drapes, throbbing redly whilst preventing the opening of more than a single window, through which floated faint , but exotic ululations from the little mosque below. It was so close, that Neil had given himself permission to remove jacket and tie, a precaution which was fully vindicated when he realised the scale of his task; Julie’s voluptuous curves were made for this setting, and could only have been improved by a tastefully draped silk robe, but the props department, Tony, had been distracted by an afternoon of frustrating incompetence on the part of Harold Jobsworth, the maintenance man, and so we were presented with the naked truth.

As a long-time member of the Saturday Club ( remember Brian Matthew ? ) I have been spoiled by a sequence of rock steady models through the six hour sessions, and found it difficult to cope with wet paint and Julie’s apparent discomfort , causing significant adjustment of the left arm, which was key to my viewpoint. Tom encouraged the group to “ check the pose”, but I certainly was not about to risk certain death, at the hands of Julie’s giant Nubian minders, for having the impertinence to question her concentration. Meanwhile, Neil hadn’t noticed that Julie had a left arm.

I do not feel that I have yet become a full member of the Thursday Club, probably because my new modus operandi leads me to lurk at the back of the circle, where my limited painting skills nicely balance my failing eyesight, so that I remain only partially aware of the outcome relative to the model. It is also very different to slide into the life session, having warmed –up for the whole of the preceding afternoon with Tom’s painting tutorials ( still only £10 ). I would not be trying to paint without this discipline, although I had promised Tom not to tell anyone about the discipline.

Around the studio, the usual wide range of materials and styles was focused on capturing scene and mood. I know that I have made this point before, but the level of general competence is such that a view of the posted gallery creates a spooky hologram, this time with a withered left arm – it seems that everyone suffered as I did!

Despite the difficulties, Chris fulfilled my long-held ambition to see Valerie Singleton in the buff, with a very strong image in the dangerous pen medium, Neil produced his most surreal group portrait to date, and Steven quietly added another perfectly formed miniature person to his cast list – I can visualise Stephens characters, animated but silent, in the manner of Tony Hart’s dear departed Morph.

Roger H made another maddeningly accomplished portrait which, although deploying all of Julie’s key features, just failed to bring them together as her. It is not in my nature to be diplomatic, so I hope that Roger understands this viewpoint and can find a way to achieve likeness, as I feel this approach demands. His namesake, Roger S, courageously forsook his trusty watercolour for the equally difficult pastel and was moving toward a significant result when Tom called last orders.

Sandra best captures Julie’s imperious demeanour , and demonstrates once again that anatomical accuracy is not the only route to making a good image; you can feel and see the search for meaningful marks, and this painting has character in spades. I cannot resist, however, questioning the sheet of MDF which Julie is carrying under her right arm?

In the left hand corner, literally and metaphorically, the girls’ fauvist group, Yvonne and Sue were smoothing their pastel into sensuous, expressive forms, and Sue underlined her commitment to the cause with a study of Julie as a female faun, complete with woolly nether regions. A bold move ,Sue, but just not enough to secure a hat trick of nominations for featured artist, which, for entirely artistic reasons, goes this week to Chris. I have not forgotten our dear leaders, but in Tom and Tony’s work you will find , as always, the benefits of many years at the coal face. Look and Learn.